======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
Well, I didn’t drink this weekend. Instead, I spent all Saturday trying to find a place to live in starting in September. I’ve had a chill lease situation for the last three years so actually having to move into an apartment that I’m financially obligated to consumed me and gave me Sober Scaries — the worst kind. Gross.
For anyone else out there with some lingering Scaries from the weekend, make sure to check out The Sunday Scaries Podcast on iTunes. Yesterday’s episode went hard as hell, which you can listen to here:
As always, these submissions are anonymous and can be found in quotes below. If you have a story of your own, send it to email@example.com. Let’s get this.
Sober scaries: My Golden Retriever is pregnant and I have absolutely no idea how nor do I know the first thing about raising newborn puppies.
Side note- Does T’s & P’s stand for “thoughts and prayers” or “tips and pointers”? Both would be appreciated here.
You should hit up Dave — I hear he’s in the market for a dog. Hell, he may even take the entire litter off your hands.
Also, Ts and Ps means “thoughts and prayers,” and honestly, I’m not in love with the phrase.
This story happened a few months ago. Just got up the courage to send it in.
A girl I had a brief thing with in college (I graduated 3 years ago) texted me about going to Vegas. I didn’t ask many questions but from what I could gather this girl booked a flight to Vegas with her girlfriends, they all got into a fight, and now she was left with a flight to Sin City with nowhere to stay. While I’ve kept in touch with her, we text maybe once every other month, very briefly. She knows I have a gambling problem though, and would never turn down a trip to Vegas.
Against all of my friends’ warnings, I call up my Vegas host and book the 4 night, 5 day trip. In hindsight, probably not the best move to make with a girl I’ve only seen a couple of times since graduating, but hey, it’s Vegas.
I land in Vegas around 11AM to calls/texts from my CEO. A deal we were working on blew up while I was mid-air and was on life support. Waited for her flight to land while I remotely cleaned up the mess in the office. Always fun to take conference calls while airport slot machines ring in the background. Fixed everything and got to the hotel no problem. Then everything went downhill.
Not sure if she got into a bigger fight with her friends or was pissed about losing money on slots, but after day one, she rarely left the hotel room and wouldn’t say a word. Just stayed there and watched movies all day. I wasn’t about that life, so I proceeded to wake up and gamble non-stop until it was time to go back to the room to pass out. It could not have been more awkward. The goal was to say as few words as possible, because every time I would say something or try to plan something, it would be crickets.
When you have nowhere to go but the casino floor, the betting swings are real and non-stop. I go from losing $1K at blackjack to betting a few hundred on Vegas Golden Knights having more shots on goal than the team they’re playing. This got so bad that my buddy in New York almost flew out to pull me off the degenerate gambling ledge.
Goes without saying, nothing happened physically the entire trip, just crawling into bed every night and barely talking. Was one of the most awkward experiences of my entire life. I still have no idea what happened, if she was just pissed at her friends, or decided to shut down for whatever reason. Keep in mind, this went on for 4 nights/5 days.
Oh, and halfway through the trip my VP called and said our deal officially died. There goes the $25K bonus I was counting on hitting next month. At least I’ll get to keep my Diamond status with Caesar’s.
Well that didn’t shake out how you thought it would, huh?
I mean, I’m going to shoot you straight. If you’re spending five days in Vegas, you can’t just expect everything to go off without a hitch. Honestly, this sounds like almost the best case scenario. The girl who invited you could’ve just been a hammered mess the entire time, bringing dudes back to your place or something.
That being said, can I holler at you if I need any Vegas hookups? I’ve never been but you’re putting out the vibe of a guy who knows his way around and can set me up with a cabana at a reduced rate. Thanks.
Long time first time, thanks for giving me something to read every week first thing in the morning at work.
This story actually takes place about 6 months ago, February around Chicago. Miserable time of year, cause it’s already been miserable for 3 straight months. My girlfriend and I were going on a bar crawl with some of our friends from school on Friday night. This was our first year post-grad, so we’re all looking to getting just as shitty as we used to be. My girlfriend and I pre-pre-game at my place, both a couple of drinks in before walking a few blocks over to our friend’s place for the pre-game. We are the last ones there, and immediately start yelling for shots of the cheapest vodka available. Everybody’s having a good time, mixed drinks are flowing, probably 3-4 more rounds of shots happen, and I look over and see my girlfriend chugging straight from the handle. Should be a really fun night for both of us then. It gets to be 11 o’clock, and we all head out to the bars and my girlfriend and I start lagging behind.
Next thing I know, my girlfriend and I are in a bathroom. My girlfriend, head firmly planted in a toilet, is clearly in a much worse state than I, so I figure out where we are, (the lobby of our friend’s building) and try to get her to rally. No such luck there, and after trying to pick up my girlfriend and dropping her (she had bruises for a month, I’d love to know what her coworkers think of me), I decide that this is where we live now, for at least another hour. The next problem is that neither of us have our shoes, and I no longer have my shirt. I look around for our shoes, but can’t find them, and both of our phones are dead (Lesson here: Never leave for a bar crawl without one of you being at at least 80+%.)
Eventually my girlfriend stops yakking and comes enough to that we can leave. Neither of us are pleased that we don’t have shoes, but that’s the cost of being degenerates. We run back to my place, thankfully I still had my keys, get in, I plug my phone in, and PTFO at around 3:00. We get up around 9:00, my girlfriend yaks again immediately, I check my phone, apparently sent some pretty rough snaps of us in the bathroom that nobody saw until after our phones died, and got a text from an unknown number saying, “Hey, it’s Joe from last night. I put your shoes in the bushes outside”. No idea who the fuck this guy is, but who really cares? I take care of my girlfriend, make eggs, and then jog over to retrieve our shoes. Never found my shirt, but all’s well that ends well? I guess?
Wait, how do you just lose your shoes and shirt? I talked about losing shit whilst drunk on this week’s episode of The Sunday Scaries Podcast, but losing your shirt and shoes in the dead of a Chicago winter is just downright irresponsible. I’ve gone to the bar shoeless in the middle of winter, but even leaving the house in the middle of a Chicago winter is miserable — doing anything shoeless or shirtless is unthinkable.
I’m in Chicago on a Sunday of a bachelor party weekend and instead of taking the early flight home to lay in my dark bedroom with a lit candle and a rom com loaded up I’m at Lolla-fucking-palooza. I left the strip club last as the sun was coming up several hundred dollars poorer, I’m sweating out Bud Lattes, I decided it was a good idea to order an entire bottle of wine to sip on during this music festival, my flight out isn’t until tomorrow morning at 8 am and I’m going straight to work. What did I do wrong in my life to put myself in this position.
They say, “Never miss a Sunday show,” but those people are wild, man. I went to Sunday of ACL a couple years ago — had two beers around 4 o’clock, completely sobered up before LCD Soundsystem, and began to panic a bit because it was Sunday night and I was in the middle of thousands of people rather than at home. Luckily, I had brought half of a Xanax with me (I’m prescribed, it’s okay) and I took it to avoid fully-freaking out. I said I’ll never do that again, but sadly, I’ll probably do exactly this for The Arctic Monkeys this year.
I am currently writing in my hotel in Germany while suffering from excruciating pain due to an infected tooth that I will probably lose. I have a week left on vacation, but thanks waking up at 4 am to a swollen face that makes me look like the stay puff marshmallow man, and the orders of a 24 hour German Dentistry, I am booking the most immediate flight home so I can get surgery. On top of the pain and looking like Heimlich from bugs life, I also barely move my jaw so talking and eating solid food has become a struggle. I was also told that flying with my infection will be excruciatingly painful, but hey it beats giving up an arm and a leg paying for surgery since I don’t have German insurance. I will have you know though that I did get the early flight. Ts and Ps that I don’t lose my tooth and that the painkillers will knock me TF out during my 10 hour flight home.
I nearly cried reading this. I have no idea why but oral issues freak me the fuck out. The idea of this happening overseas is even more anxiety-inducing. Please give me an update that says everything went okay. Please.
I love the column and I love the fact that I’m not alone in this world with my weekly antics. Anyway, I just booked my flight for a bachelor party in New Orleans over a long Labor Day weekend and I’m already scared (read: excited) of how wrong things may go. Hopefully I make all the readers proud. I’ll be sure to update on what went down as soon as I get back.
PS: If you or anybody has advice on what to do and not to do to prepare myself, all advice is welcome.
Sometimes pre-Scary Scaries are the best. That pre-trip excitement where you just know shit is going to get wild. I have a late flight back (I know, I know) from home on Labor Day and am already dreading it, but I’m also kind of excited to just be full-on Scared.
A few years ago I was enjoying life on a party island in Vietnam. It was a fun and wild time filled with everything you could hope for during a three-day bender. On the third day, we were informed that a typhoon was going to hit the island and thus it was unsafe to travel back to the mainland. All activities were outdoors so we decide to get drunk in the common area that’s covered from the down pouring of rain. There’s about 60 of us so you can imagine how that went. Well, while I was drunk, I decided to do some exploring and found a friend in the kitchen smoking out of a four foot tall bong. This seemed, in the moment, like the thing to do in the place to do it. So I take a hit and another and I feel real weird. I look over at my friend and he has this nice glint in his eyes that tells me it wasn’t weed. It doesn’t feel like a weed high so I ignore it and let it encompass my body. We head back to the party area and everyone is sitting down to eat lunch. I join some friends and this guy who was trying to hook up with me, B, sits down next to me and asks to save his seat while he grabs us drinks. I look at my friends and decide now is the moment to caress and massage all the food on his plate (idk why, man). We’re laughing like lunatics when he returns and eats his meal. No one says anything. We keep drinking and somehow I end up on top of the bar in my bra and underwear losing complete control over my body. I’m not the only one if it makes it sound better? I dance up there until it’s dark and then pass out in bed after feeling like I’ve been a combo of coke and nyquil. I wake up the next day feeling like I was in a car accident and have some intense and deeply dark thoughts throughout the entire next day. So we try to determine what we smoked and the conclusion reached is opium. Not sure if you can smoke opium out of a bong but this high felt unlike anything else I’ve experienced. Totally get how people are addicted to it and wouldn’t recommend doing it after experiencing that next day death. Oh and did hookup with B..so guess you can massage someone’s food and still have them like you (not that I’d recommend it for common human decency). I’ll try to make better decisions while I’m abroad next time.
If you aren’t doing opium at island parties in Vietnam, what are you even doing? I was legit imagining this being like the movie The Beach, but you know, before it got super weird.
Actually, I guess this got super weird anyway.
FTLT. Probably have a dozen stories I could submit here but I wanted to share this one. Went out hard on a saturday night and rolled into a sunday funday. Ended up smoking weed on my friends roof/patio. Went back to my apartment and passed out around 5pm. I woke up Sunday night at 8pm but thought it was Monday morning at 8am. Proceeded to hop in the shower in a panic, got changed for work, and rushed out the door. Got about 4 blocks and started to notice that only families were out and about and not the usual commuting crowd. Checked my phone and it was Sunday night. A weird combination of scaries/relief.
Okay, I’ve actually done this. Well, I wasn’t high or anything, but I woke up at 3 a.m. and must’ve thought it was 8 a.m. (but just really dark? IDK). I showered, got ready, realized how dumb I was while rushing to make breakfast, and then just went back to bed. I woke up and the wetness of my hair created a Flock of Seagulls look so I had to shower again. A devastating revelation.
My friends dad is an estate manager so every once in a while he’ll have people over to some rich guys mansion for a cookout and a few drinks. Yesterday started pretty normal…just drinking a few beers by the pool. Next thing I know we’re doing shots of tequila at 7:30 on a thursday. That turned into me, my friends dad, and my brothers best friend going shot for shot with this rich dudes scotch. After my friends dad leaves me and my brothers friend basically killed a bottle of cherry schnoppes and went back to the cookout. At this point we both blacked out. I guess my dumbass thought it would be a good idea to get in the jacuzzi..which is right next to a ledge leading to a 25 foot drop. My friend tells me to be careful and I immediately fell straight over the ledge landing ass first. Somehow I managed to be perfectly ok got up and kept drinking. I came to at about 3:30 with my face buried in a trash can full of puke and feeling like i just got hit by a car. My brothers friend apparently got so messed up he stripped naked and started crying in the neighbors yard then puked all over the house. I’m writing this with the worst hangover I’ve ever had..pounding ibprofin and getting ready to go to work in two hours.
…Cherry Schnapps? No no no no no no no.
Also, I feel like the rich dude definitely has cameras and watched this entire thing transpire. I am scared shitless of in-home cameras now. So glad Nest Cams didn’t exist when I was in high school — we would’ve all been grounded.
So for being 23 I know waaay too many people that are getting married. So last weekend I flew home for a wedding and originally I was only going to be back for less than 24 hrs. Turned out I had a business trip this week in a city about an hour from my college town. Add the fact it was my best friends birthday, one of my fraternity brothers bachelor parties, and I got to expense my flight I was in.
So I black out at the wedding and spend two days at my parents house then get ready to head to my alma mater. I fly in on a Tuesday and wind up staying at happy hour with two of my bosses for 6 hours so things are starting off strong. Nothing too exciting happens till Friday, after I get off work my best friend and I head to our college town with some of his work friends. We go to his girlfriends place and start drinking and doing smelling salts. Yes someone brought smelling salts. So after everyone is ready we head to an apartment near the bars. And then we went out… hard. We hit 5 different bars and there’s at least one snap story of me doing the Macarena. So I’m browning in and out at this point and some how make it back to the place we’re staying at. And the next thing I know I’m finger blasting the only other girl that came ourt with us on the living room floor. We wind up waking up together fully clothed in a different girls bed. So now I’m on the hot seat with the home owners since that was not the move. I leave the house to hit a pool and let my buddy my bday sex. So I day drink all day then we head to a different city for our buddies bachelor party.
We start the night at hooters then we hit the casino for a few hours. After that we wind up at a gay club where a stupid number of girls we know from college are drinking at. Somehow we head to a strip club with the squad plus a random gay guy who we convince to help pay for bottle service at the strip club. I proceeded to black out and then wake up hungover not excited to fly and ready to be home.
Dude, you can’t just drop “f-blasting” on us that quickly. That’s jarring. I’m glad people are doing smelling salts, though. I think it was on an episode of Touching Base where I said that they need to start marketing that stuff towards college kids. Blake passes out on the couch too early? Boom, he just got smelling salted.
(I am not a medical professional and have no idea if this is safe. Do not trust me.)
Hey Will – you might remember me as the girl who had the crazy roommate hookup with a VP at my company’s gala….well I’m back. But without the roomie. Last night i went on a peddle pub crawl for my brothers bday and things got a little weird. We had pregamed at his house with a lot of White Claw, a piñata full of fireball, and Shania Twain blasting on the speakers. So by the time we get to the peddle crawl, we are all quiet buzzed. There are three peddle crawls going at the same time and we are clearly the most loud and annoying group. Instead of playing normal drinking music we are blasting My Chemical Romance And Bloodhound Gang. My brother and his friends also decided to bring naked mannequins with them and are doing boob luges Off them and take them into every bar we go to. Oh did i mention that this peddle crawl is in Florida so it’s hot as hell and all the bars we decided to stop at are breweries so we are drinking double ipas in the span of 10 minutes. Rookie mistake. Oh and I forgot to eat dinner at the first bar we stopped at because it’s a dog bar and there were so many dogs and puppies and tears of happiness. So after the peddle crawl ends and we all shotgun the leftover beer we decided to keep the party going and head to another bar. I switch to vodka sodas and i so regret that decision today. There is a live band and I’m harassing them to play third eye blind while the rest of the group is dancing with all the mannequins. My sisters friend is doing the worm in the middle of the bar. I see one of the guys grab a random girl as she walks by and they start making out. He may or may not have a gf. I decide to Irish goodbye at some point, Uber home, pass out in the Uber, and wake up convinced that the driver took me to the wrong apartment. I didnt get out of bed until 3 today. I have the scaries to the max as my mom decided to schedule family photos tonight and I’m probably going to be written out of the will when i possibly puke during this photo session.
Oh, I remember you. You’re WILD.
This site’s stance on pedal pubs and White Claws are widely known, so I don’t think I need to tell you how you fucked up in that respect. Do you have a video of your sister doing the worm, though? That sounds tight.
Just got off a week long family vacation. Currently drowning in laundry and the realization I need to lose weight. Work at 7:15 tomorrow. Send help.
I feel this. I really feel this. I’m going to be in Michigan for a wedding next week and am staying through the following week to catch up with friends and family I haven’t seen in a while. I know I’m going to eat and drink everything in sight and come back feeling like a whale. Hopefully I feel so bad about myself that it puts me over the edge and I’m forced to start working out again. Fingers crossed.
my ex girlfriend told me that she missed me
Got drunk on Saturday morning at my friends sisters baby shower (I’m a guy, but there was open bar and buffet with great food; 3 hours worth of mimos and bloody mary’s). Left baby shower with a few people to burn at the crib. Smoked two blunts, funneled Titos into my Pellegrino bottle. Completely faded at this point. Passed out, woke up an hour later still pretty faded. Ubered to dinner with some friends. Ubered to Daytona Beach to meet a couple of my other friends. Was browning in and out throughout dinner and the first hour we were out. Hit the strip club and proceeded to fully black out. Pretty sure I pissed on Seabreeze in front of so many people. Surprised I didn’t get arrested. Woke up without my phone and I have no clue where it could be. Worst scaries I’ve had in a while, PGA Championship and soaking in the pool did nothing to cure them. Should have listened to my friends I went to dinner with and just gone home. Ts and Ps would be appreciated.
Love that this column spans everything from Vegas to Vietnam to baby showers. We’ve got shooters everywhere. Luckily, yesterday was a top day for watching golf. Tiger made us forget about our problems for at least a couple hours. The GOAT.
Found out new boyfriend has been married……And perhaps still is married. No, he hasn’t mentioned this fact. Thanks, Google, and good old instincts – feeling the need to look up a new boyfriend’s background in order to make sure there’s no red flags in his past (as one does after they’ve been in an abusive, sketchy relationship).
And bring on the wine. My girlfriends are on their way over.
Will have a hangover of epic proportions (not seen since undergrad) on Monday
Cut your losses, hop on Bumble, and start shootin’. Expose him too, though.
Will, about to spend 7 nights in Vegas. Leaving Friday with my girlfriend and a few other friends. They leave Monday. I’m staying for a “work conference” Tuesday – Friday. Get back Friday with a party boat on the lake Sunday and back to work Monday. T & P for my bank and body please.
Dude, no. Please don’t do this to yourself. I don’t care what you need to do to get out of this, but you need to get out of this. Just read the five-day story from above. Just like our parents told us that nothing good happens after midnight, nothing good happens after your second day in Vegas.
What up Big Willie Style,
Rough weekend leading up to an even tougher week. Stayed in Friday night and finally watched the Bachelorette finale and the first episode of Paradise.
Saturday, met up with a bumble match. Her pictures were misleading, so I was already pretty bummed. Adding on, her and her friends were hammered. Like each had a $150+ Bar tab hammered. While I’m out there cutting a rug, trying to salvage the evening, I get a full jack and coke spilled on me. So now I’m sticky, soaked, and wreak of whiskey. We close down the bar, and because I’m a nice guy, I made sure this girl and her obnoxious friends got home safe.
I spent most of the day today (Sunday) trying to sleep because….I am part of a bridge inspection team inspecting a major interstate bridge in my city. Because it’s a busy bridge, we can only close down lanes at night. Therefore, starting Sunday night, I will be on a bridge from 9pm to 5am all week. I don’t even have time for scaries to kick in. T’s and P’s.
-Nocturnal for the Week
I’m numb from thinking about this. I can’t even fathom facing a week where that’s my shift. I’m so glad I chose blogging and podcasting as a career choice rather than bridge inspections.
Went to a wedding out of town and had a ticket on the first flight home on Sunday morning. Was the flight at 6am? Yes. Did I leave the bars at 2am? Also yes. Made it to the airport for the hour flight home and all seemed well. After the flight left the gate, fog rolled in and we had to sit on the runway for two and a half hours waiting for it to clear. On the bright side, I had the Sunday Scaries podcast to make it through the morning. Peace and blessings.
Big ups to The Sunday Scaries Podcast. Yes, I’m going to shamelessly plug it numerous times in this column because it’s my podcast and that’s what I’m allowed to do. .